


Nothing But the Truth

by Asidian



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Camping, Families of Choice, Financial Issues, Gen, Neglect, Status Effects, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian
Summary: "Thankfully," says Ignis, "the spiders in this area aren’t of the venomous variety."Prompto perks up, and sets a paper bag of cookware on top of a rock. "Well, that's a relief.""Certain other species," says Ignis, "are not nearly so benign."Noct laughs a little at Prompto's face, which is caught somewhere between terror and disbelief. "C'mon, Specs, quit trolling him. He's gonna wish he didn't come."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a quick drabble, but it kept getting longer, and longer, and I decided to just go ahead and break it up into a couple of chapters. O-oops?
> 
> Anyway, the prompt was:
> 
> "Imagine Prom with some status effect, or something, where he tells the truth. And he's sick and hurt so this is literally the worst time for him to have honesty thrust upon him. Liiike, he was afraid to say no to something even tho he felt dreadful. Maybe he hints at dark thoughts, slips a little about his heritage. Tells them how hurtful some of the things they say are?? Could be brotherhood and he royally outs his parents and how neglected he is 8D"

The forest stretches for what's got to be miles. It's pretty impressive, actually; Noct knows, theoretically, how much land falls within Insomnia's Wall, but in practice, he never has much time to get out and visit the outskirts.

It's kind of pretty.

There are campgrounds laid out for recreational use, little plots of land with pre-dug fire pits and parking spots, but Gladio went all-out for this one. He pulled some strings and got them a spot away from the crush of vacationers, tucked into a little alcove of rock that faces out toward the ephemeral shimmer of the Wall.

All they can see is the press of the trunks, dark and towering, and the rich green of the pine needles as they disappear up toward the sky.  Down below, in a little gully, a clear stream trickles its way between moss-covered stones.

"Okay," says Noct, grudgingly. "Not bad."

Gladio's bent over by the tent, steady hands busy at work. He snorts. "Uh huh. Not bad, he says." He reaches for the hammer to work one of the pegs into place in the ground. "Give it two days. This is gonna be the best spring break you ever had."

"No cell reception," says Noct, and makes a face. "No TV. No video games."

"No homework," Gladio counters. "No meetings. No, 'Hey, Highness, can you take a look at this?'"

He kind of has a point. But Noct just says, "All I'm saying is, if we get spiders in the tent, you're on squishing duty."

"Aw, man," comes Prompto's voice, from somewhere behind the wall of trees. "There's spiders out here?"

"They do generally make their homes in the wild," says Ignis, calm and amused, and then the two of them are stepping into the clearing, arms full of Ignis' cooking supplies.

"Tons," says Noct. "It's like an infestation or something."

"It's like a forest," says Gladio, rolling his eyes so hard that Noct can hear it in his voice without even turning to look.

"Thankfully," says Ignis, "the spiders in this area aren’t of the venomous variety."

Prompto perks up, and sets a paper bag of cookware on top of a rock. "Well, that's a relief."

"Certain other species," says Ignis, "are not nearly so benign."

Noct laughs a little at Prompto's face, which is caught somewhere between terror and disbelief. "C'mon, Specs, quit trolling him. He's gonna wish he didn't come."

"You kidding?" says Prompto, and lifts his camera from the strap around his neck. He swivels it toward Noct – snaps a picture. He grabs another one of Gladio wrestling the last of the tent into position. "We got a whole week till school starts again, and a backdrop like we're adventuring in some RPG. You couldn't keep me away if you tried."

"Blondie's got the right attitude," says Gladio, with something like approval, and straightens up to give the tent one final looking-over.

"Sure do," says Prompto, then blinks and pauses, seeming to think that over. "Right attitude for what?"

"For squishing spiders," says Noct, with a crooked sort of smile.

"Dude," says Prompto. "So not in the job description." He reaches over to poke Noct between the ribs. "Only way I'm touching those things is if I get to dump them on your sleeping bag."

Noct's eyes narrow. "We're in the woods, Prom. No one'll hear you scream."

Ignis sighs, restrained and long-suffering. He says, "If any spiders make their way inside, I will see them out again. Will that suffice?"

"Thanks, Specs," says Noct, at the same time Prompto says, "You're the best, Iggy."

They share a look and a grin, and Gladio snorts and descends on them. "Okay, break time's over. We still have to unpack." He shoots Noct an appraising look. "You, too, princess. Don't think I didn't notice you over there killing time."

"Yeah, yeah," says Noct. "I'll go help unload the car. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," says Gladio, blatantly unimpressed.

Ignis is beside his camp stove already, fiddling with it to make sure everything's in proper working order. He pauses to rifle through his pocket – holds the keys out, expectantly, and Noct takes them. "Bring Prompto with you. And do remember to lock the doors this time."

"You got it," says Noct.

"Aye aye, captain," says Prompto.

Then they're back on the winding dirt path that leads to the parking lot, Noct at a reasonable pace, Prompto practically skipping ahead. He's in high spirits today – has been since they picked him up out front of his house. His grin's infectious, wide and bright, and Noct feels himself smiling in response, a slow curve of his lips.

"You're excited," says Noct.

"You think?" says Prompto. "A whole week off school, dude! And here we are in nature's own back yard."

"I'm just glad your parents let you come," says Noct, honestly. "I know it was kind of late notice."

"They're pretty cool with stuff like that," says Prompto. He says it casually, but there's an off note in his tone.

Noct glances his way, but Prompto's already started jogging ahead down the path. 

"Come on," he calls back over his shoulder. "Sooner we get unpacked, the sooner we can burn some hotdogs on sticks!"

 

* * *

 

"This is way better than hotdogs on sticks," says Prompto.

Or at least, Noct's pretty sure that's what he's trying to say. The whole coherent words thing is a little ruined by the fact that his mouth's stuffed full of kebab, and he's gearing up to cram another piece of steak into his mouth even now.

Ignis and Gladio are watching him, expressions hovering somewhere between bemused and horrified. Noct, who's more used to his best friend's table manners, just says, "It's not going anywhere, dude. Chew."

Prompto chews. He swallows, with effort. He says, "Seriously, I'm going to write an ode to these skewers. I'm in the middle of a life-altering event over here."

Ignis scoffs, but the corners of his mouth are perking up in the way that means he's trying to hide a smile. "They're nothing special."

"Careful, Specs," says Noct. "He might follow through with that ode."

Prompto pops the last mushroom into his mouth. He chews, and swallows, and sighs a happy sigh. "An ode _and_ a ballad."

Gladio snorts a laugh. "Slow it down there. You start working on a ballad, no way you'll be done in time for breakfast."

Noct reaches over to the platter near the fire – grabs another skewer and slides it onto Prompto's plate. "And then what're you gonna do when Specs makes pancakes?"

"Ascend to another plane of existence," says Prompto, voice a little dreamy.

Noct snorts a laugh, and elbows him in the side, and Prompto twists away, grinning, and tries to poke him back with the empty meat skewer. The ensuing battle with tiny wooden swords goes on until Ignis clears his throat, pointedly, and announces that no one is having s'mores until the dishes are washed and put away.

 

* * *

 

When Noct wakes the next morning, sunlight's already filtering in through the green canvas of the tent. From outside, he can smell bacon frying, and the sharp, strong scent of coffee.

He wanders out blearily a few minutes later, scrubbing at his eyes – discovers Ignis hard at work over the camp stove, and Gladio bare-chested, halfway through a set of one-handed pushups. Something's missing from the scene, and it take Noct a moment to realize what.

"Where's Prompto?" he says.

"Hate to break it to you," says Gladio, "but I think he found himself a new best friend."

Ignis must see the look on his face, because he smiles – lifts the spatula to indicate a heavily overgrown area next to the biggest tree on the outskirts of the clearing.

And there's Prompto, crouched down and peering into the undergrowth. He's turned away from them, camera in his hands, and Noct wonders if he's practicing close-ups on a flower or something right up until he ambles over for a better look.

Then he sees the pudgy, furred brown face poking out of the leaves.

"He's kinda cute," says Noct, crouching down to get a better look.

Prompto starts – glances sideways – sees Noct and brightens. "Right? He's been hanging out since Iggy started cooking. I think he wants some bacon."

Noct regards the little creature, dubious. "You think?"

Prompto fixes him with a sunny grin. "Doesn't everyone _always_ want bacon?"

It's a pretty fool-proof argument.

"Hold on a sec," says Noct. "I'll see what I can do."

He circles back around to the campsite, and Ignis watches him come, mouth set into an uncompromising line. Before Noct is ten feet away, he's already saying, "Absolutely not. I've already told Prompto no."

"Aww, c'mon," says Noct. "It can come off my plate."

"Number one rule of camping," Gladio grunts, as he finishes up his rep. "Don't feed the wildlife."

But Noct darts a hand out to snitch the bacon cooling on a plate nearby anyway – helps himself to the longest slice, then takes two quick steps back, laughing, when Ignis rounds on him with a spatula like some vengeful god.

"Thanks, Specs," says Noct, and beats a hasty retreat.

At the sight of the bacon, Prompto lights up like a solstice parade, all brilliance and good cheer. "You got one!"

"Well?" says Noct, and hands it over. "Go on. Your theory – you see if it holds up."

Prompto takes the bacon strip, still beaming – lets his camera dangle from its strap so that he has a free hand to extend the offer to the creature. "You hungry, little guy?"

A tiny pawed hand reaches out from the leaves and accepts the offered bacon. A second paw joins it, and the animal lifts the morsel to its mouth and proceeds to gnaw, intently, until the meat's gone.

When it's finished, it leans forward to sniff Prompto's fingers, as though hoping the lingering bacon grease indicates more food to come.

Then it bites him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! Glad you're enjoying so far. :)

Half an hour later, Prompto's hand is bandaged and he's sprawled in one of the camp chairs, looking decidedly paler than usual. His eyes are too bright, and his cheeks are mottled red, and he's limp as a rag doll.

"I don't feel so good," he says. 

"Well, yeah," says Noct. "You only got gored by a puffball."

Prompto tips his head back, and he stares up at the sky like the clouds might come down and save him. "Dude," he says. "Don't remind me."

"Care to be a bit more precise about how you're feeling?" Ignis asks, reaching out an absent hand to feel Prompto's forehead.

It takes Prompto a minute to answer. He swivels his head back around – blinks owlishly, as though the words haven't quite penetrated. "My hand kinda hurts."

"What the hell did you expect?" says Gladio. "I told you to leave the damn thing alone."

"Aww, c'mon." Prompto tries on a hopeful smile. "How was I supposed to say no to a face that cute?"

"It's fine," says Noct. He fixes his eyes on Gladio, daring him to argue. "Pretty sure I saw some potions in the supply shop on the way in. Gladio can go get one and you'll be better than new in no time."

"Not just yet," says Ignis. He's kneeling, now, to rummage through one of their bags of supplies. "Is it only your hand that's troubling you, Prompto?"

Prompto hesitates – glances toward Gladio, and then Ignis. He bites at his lip and says, "I feel a little dizzy."

"Hmm," says Ignis. "You almost certainly have a fever, as well." He finds what he's looking for in the bag – a textbook-sized tome in shades of tan and olive – and flips it open. The spine, when Noct catches a glimpse, says Native Wildlife of the Eastern Insomnian Woodlands.

Noct almost comments. He almost asks who brings a portable library on a camping trip. But the answer, plainly, is Ignis. Noct can just picture him, standing in his private apartment, considering what to pack: bug repellant, five clean changes of clothes, and situation-appropriate reference materials.

He stifles the smile behind a hand before Ignis can see it.

"Gladio," says Ignis, and then trails off, frowning, to peer down at the page. "See about a remedy, while you're there. I think I've discovered our culprit."

"Yeah?" says Prompto. "What was it?"

Ignis pauses again, eyes skimming along the page. He turns the book outward, toward Prompto, and Noct catches a glimpse of an illustration: that same fuzzy brown face that had been poking out through the bushes. This time, it's attached to a long, slender body with a sleek, pointed tail.

"Familiar?" asks Ignis, and Prompto gives a nod.

Ignis turns the book around again and glances down at the text. "The Insomnian white-footed firrula," he says. "It runs rampant in this area of the woods, I'm afraid. Its bite is known to cause fever, weakness, disorientation, and one rather more, ah. Unusual effect."

"Come on," says Gladio, thick eyebrows rising up to his hairline. "You can't say something like that and leave us hanging."

Ignis adjusts his glasses. He says, "It compels the affected party to tell the truth."

"The truth," says Noct, skeptical.

Prompto's face, still flushed with the fever, scrunches up in confusion, the way it does when he's trying to work through a math problem he doesn't particularly understand. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Indeed," says Ignis. "I can scarcely imagine the evolutionary benefit of such a venom."

 _That's_ what he's worried about?

Noct's mind is still tripping over even the idea of it. It sounds fake – like something some kid playing with his friends might come up with to explain how he's getting information out of the bad guy.

There's no way it's real. There's no way some weird brown thing hiding in the bushes can make a person tell the truth, if they don't want to.

But as Noct thinks it over, it occurs to him distantly that he's pretty sure he has a way to test it.

"Hey, Prom," he says, faux casual. "Remember when we had that field trip to the water park?"

"Yeah?" says Prompto, eyes wary.

Noct had lost his towel – looked for it for all of about five minutes, before he caught sight of Prompto trying not to smile. It was a quicksilver expression, excited and playful, and Noct spent the better part of an hour expecting his friend to reveal the prank at any second.

But the day had dragged on, and Noct had gotten kind of cold, and then Prompto'd come over, decidedly nervous and kind of apologetic, to lend Noct his own towel.

He still wonders about that day, sometimes.

So he says, "What'd you ever do with my towel?"

"What?" says Prompto "I have no idea what you're –" The words cut off in the middle, neatly, like snipping paper with a particularly sharp pair of scissors. Then Prompto says, "I hid it."

He looks _horrified_ – scrambles into an explanation like his life depends on it. "It was just a joke, dude, I swear. And then it kind of got stuck in the pool filter, and I lost it, and – and we'd only known each other like six months then, right? I couldn't own up to it, cause what if –"

"Hey," says Noct, cutting him off. "We're cool." He gives Prompto's shoulder a companionable nudge, and then turns to Gladio. "Think we're gonna need that remedy, though."

"Got it," says Gladio.

"Do hurry, won't you?" says Ignis.

And Prompto slumps over, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "I'm just gonna sit here and shut up for a while."

 

* * *

 

"This is all they've got," says Gladio, and knocks a glass bottle against the palm of his hand.

Prompto unfolds himself and moves to take it – hesitates when he realizes it's just one container. "What, is it a two-in-one kind of thing, like they do with shampoo and conditioner?"

"No such luck," says Gladio. "They're fresh out of remedies."

Prompto practically wilts, drooping down into the camp chair like he's hoping it will swallow him up. "This sucks."

"Yeah," says Noct, frowning. "Tell me about it."

Not even a day in, and Prompto's miserable. This was supposed to be fun. Now he's probably wishing he stayed home instead of letting himself get whisked along on some dumb wilderness adventure.

Ignis makes a small noise of consideration – reaches out, absently, and plucks the potion from Prompto's fingers.

He holds it Noct's way – fixes him with a pointed look. "If you don't mind?"

"Ah, yeah," says Noct, taking the bottle. "Sure."

When he was little, he used to think it was hard to imbue items with magic. At twelve years old, he once spent a whole week trying and failing to work up a batch of potions, getting progressively more frustrated over the lack of results. Now, it's as natural as breathing. Noct runs a finger up the side of the glass and feels a warm rush as some of the energy in him leeches out into the liquid.

When he's finished, he unscrews the cap. "Let's see your hand."

Prompto holds it out, cautious. "Do I need to do anything?"

"Nah," says Noct, and pours the liquid over the wound.

There's a glimmer of green light, and Prompto stares down at the bandage, mouth falling open in what looks like genuine amazement. "Dude," he says, fingers picking at the edge of the cloth to unwind it. "I don't even feel it anymore."

"Well, yeah," Gladio snorts. "That's what potions _do_."

The bandage comes clear, and there where the bite mark had been, deep and bloody, there's nothing but pale skin and a hint of dried blood. Prompto sucks in a sharp breath. "That's got to be the coolest thing I've ever seen. It's just _gone_."

Noct shoots him a slanted smile – waggles his fingers. "Like magic?"

"You are such a dork," Prompto tells him, but his eyes are intent and a little awed, and Noct feels himself flush under the attention. "But like, seriously. Coolest thing _ever_."

"Whoa there," says Gladio, and taps Prompto on the shoulder. "Take five before you start working on the love letter. We're short a remedy, remember? We'd better figure out what we're going to do."

"Do?" says Noct.

"Indeed," says Ignis. "The effects take twenty-four hours to run their course. If Prompto would rather spend that time somewhere more comfortable, that should certainly be his right."

The thought that Prompto might just pack up and go home barrels in like an unwelcome guest.

Noct's been waiting for this trip for a month. Prompto's the first person he's ever met that he can part from for the day and then immediately start texting, because tomorrow's too long to wait to tell him something. A whole week together sounded incredible, and now that it stands to get cut short, the pang of disappointment's sharp and sudden.

Ignis is right, though. If it's easier for Prompto to hole up in his room and ride this out with his family, he should head home.

"Yeah," says Noct. "I guess so." He hesitates – looks Prompto over, carefully, as though searching for clues. "What do you think? Should we call your parents to come get you?"

"Nah," says Prompto. "I want to stay."

A weight slides right off Noct's heart at the answer. Suddenly, the rest of the week opens up again: twenty-four hours of bedrest, maybe, but after that there's still plenty of time. They can take the hiking trail to the top of the nearby peak so Prompto can grab his landscapes. They can go swimming in the lake, and tell scary stories around the fire, and roast marshmallows until they go crispy and black, completely ignoring Ignis' lecture on how to achieve an even golden-brown.

But Prompto's biting down on his lip, preoccupied and uncertain. "And anyway," he says, and then swallows. "Anyway, they're not home."

"What," says Gladio, "your folks don't have cell phones?"

"Sure they do," says Prompto. "They just don't answer. They're pretty busy at work."

"Well," says Ignis. "We could always call later in the evening. When do they get home?"

"Summer," says Prompto.

It takes Noct a beat of silence to realize that it's an answer. From the look on Prompto's face, it takes him that long to realize it actually slipped out of his mouth.

"Uh," says Prompto. "They, uh. They go away on business sometimes. They're gonna be in Altissia for a while."

"A while," says Gladio, flatly.

Noct's busy doing the math. "That's like two months," he says, a little uncertain.

He knows that Prompto's parents leave town sometimes. Prompto's said as much, before –throwaway comments, here and there. But two months seems like a lot. Two months seems like there has to be something Noct's not quite getting.

"Five," says Prompto. The word's barely out of his mouth before he grimaces, looking like he wishes he could snatch it back.

"Five months," says Ignis. It's a casual remark, carefully impassive. "They've been gone for some time already, then."

Prompto nods, jerky and strange, like he's fighting with himself. He says, "Yeah, but it's cool. This isn't, like – this doesn't break the record." His eyes drift to Noct, pleading. "Don't be weird about it, okay? It's not a big deal."

"It's kind of a big deal," says Noct, frowning.

"It's fine, dude," says Prompto. "I hardly even –" He cuts off midway through the sentence. He opens his mouth, as though he wants to continue – closes it again, frowning.

"Prompto," says Noct, quietly.

"Anyway," says Prompto. "It doesn't bug me as much as it used to."

As much as it used to.

It hurts a little to think of Prompto – chatty, people-loving Prompto, who's always ready to ramble on about the new game at the arcade, or the project for their history class, or how much ass Noct kicked on that econ test – sitting alone at his kitchen table every night, eating dinner by himself.

Ignis clears his throat. He says, "Well. Regardless of whether your parents are available, if you would prefer to wait out the effects elsewhere, I would be happy to give you a ride. Wherever you like."

Prompto smiles, then, shaky and pale. He says, "Thanks, Iggy, but I really do want to stay. I was kind of looking forward to this. You know?"

Noct knows. He's been looking forward to it, too.

So he nudges Prompto in the side, and he says, "We've got you covered. Twenty-four hours is gonna be nothing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whups, sorry for the delay on this one. I got a little derailed by my fic for Promnis week.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :)

The plan is to get Prompto set up in the tent, settled in his sleeping bag.

They'll let him wait it out somewhere warm, and ply him with soup, and bring him tea. He can take it easy until the fever runs its course; they'll leave him to nap and give him his space, so they don't accidentally strong-arm him into questions he doesn't want to answer.

Then tomorrow, it'll be back to camping business as usual. It's a pretty good plan, Noct thinks.

Except, when Gladio goes to unroll the sleeping bag, he gets a good look at it for the first time. "The hell is this thing?" he says, and flips up a corner to peer at the manufacturer's label.

And Prompto, a little defensive, says: "I had to get something for the trip."

"It's his first time camping," says Noct. "Give him a break."

Gladio's expression, eyebrows raised, is plainly unimpressed. "You couldn't ask for recommendations?"

"I asked the lady at the store," says Prompto.

Gladio fixes the seams with a dubious look. He runs a finger up along the sparsely padded interior. "Astrals only know how you didn't freeze last night. Can't believe she told you to buy this thing."

"Uh," says Prompto. "She, uh. She said this one sucked."

Noct's been busy looking over the sleeping bag – it really does look kind of thin, and it was  _cold_  last night – but now he shifts his attention to Prompto's face. He registers the way his eyes are trained firmly on the tent floor, and the way he's biting down on his lip.

Noct opens his mouth to say knock it off with the questions, but before he can, Gladio's saying, "Then what the hell were you thinking?"

Prompto's cheeks are already mottled red with the fever, but they go darker now. "I was thinking I needed _something_ , if I wanted to come."

It's kind of a weird reply. Noct's mind turns it over, trying to make sense of it, but it doesn't quite click until Ignis says, somewhat pointedly: "I imagine the price point had something to do with it."

"Yeah," says Prompto, with what sounds like relief. "I mean, I made it work. But this was the cheapest one they had, and it was still kind of touch and go."

"Touch and go," Noct echoes, voice flat.

Prompto huffs a nervous laugh. "I didn't wait till the last minute or anything. I started saving up as soon as you asked me. But it, uh. It still took some work."

"The hell do you mean, saving up?" says Gladio. "These things are only like thirty crowns."

Prompto fidgets. He reaches up to rub at his mouth. Finally he says, "Things have been kind of tight lately. I mean, I've got a job now. It's totally covered. But when unexpected stuff pops up, it takes some juggling, you know?"

"Gentlemen," says Ignis, pointedly. "Perhaps Prompto would find it more appropriate to have this conversation tomorrow."

And Noct wants to agree with him. He does.

But his mind's busy tripping back over the past month. He's remembering the day Prompto begged off on going to the arcade. He's remembering how Prompto complained about work – that his boss wasn't putting him on for as many hours, anymore. He's remembering that Prompto suddenly stopped bringing his lunch to school about three weeks ago.

"Prompto," says Noct, and his own voice sounds strange to his ears.

Maybe Prompto knows what he's thinking, because his eyebrows draw together, distinctly worried. "Not a whole lot. Just a little."

"You told me you stopped bringing lunch because of that dumb diet," Noct accuses.

He almost feels bad for the way Prompto freezes, eyes wide, as though caught. "I, uh," says Prompto, and licks at his lips. "I lied."

Noct stares at him.

Prompto stands there in the tent entryway, not looking at any of them. His eyes are fixed on the fabric of the floor.

Noct can't stop thinking about last night, sitting around the fire – can't help remembering the way Prompto attacked his dinner, like it might disappear if he let go of it for too long.

"Why didn't you say anything?" says Noct, distantly. He feels blindsided – like Gladio got too close in training and brained him with the broadside of a blade.

"What was I gonna say?" says Prompto. "Sorry, buddy, I really want to go camping, but my budget sucks right now?"

"You could have asked for  _help_ ," says Noct.

Prompto's laugh this time is strangled. "Dude. I'm still kind of amazed you keep me around, half the time. I mean, like – I've met me. Last thing I need is to add 'begging for money' to the list of things no one can stand."

Noct sucks a sharp breath in. He takes a half-step toward Prompto, stricken. "You can't really think that."

"Kinda how the whole truth serum thing works, right?" Prompto tries on a smile, but it's shaky, and he still doesn't meet Noct's eyes. "Anyway. I thought we were gonna go easy on the heart-to-hearts till tomorrow."

There's a long, long pause. Noct just stands there, staring at him – not sure what he can say, to make this better. He shoots a glance to Ignis, and then to Gladio, hoping one of them has a better idea than he does.

But all Ignis says is, "Our apologies. You're right, of course."

Prompto folds his arms across his chest, like he's cold. He says, "Thanks, Iggy."

"C'mon, kid," says Gladio after a beat, gruffly. "Let's get you set up to sleep off that fever."

It takes Noct longer to agree. His mind's still busy going in circles, and there are about a thousand things he wants to say. Every single one of them feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth, lodged in like a fish hook.

"Yeah," Noct finally says. "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow."

Prompto nods. He shuffles in his socked feet over toward the edge of the tent, where his sleeping bag is spread out.

"Lucky you," says Gladio, "Iggy brought extra blankets. Go on and hop in your sleeping bag, and we'll hook you up with some extra padding."

"After that," says Ignis, "I'll whip up some lunch, and we'll let you get your rest. All right?"

"Sounds great," says Prompto. And then, more quietly: "Sorry, guys."

"Don't you dare be sorry," says Noct, sharper than he intends. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Prompto opens his mouth like he means to reply. He closes it again and smiles, wobbly and rough around the edges. "Raincheck, dude," he says. "Tomorrow, remember?"

 

* * *

 

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

Noct spends the time buried in his phone, caught up in the new Justice Monsters puzzle game that just came out. It's not very good. It goes from easy to really damn hard in the space of about three levels, and he's not actually getting anywhere, anymore – but it helps to keep his mind off of Prompto.

Mostly.

While his fingers hunt for spaces to fit brightly colored blocks, his mind keeps coming back around to the words, "I'm still kind of amazed you keep me around."

While he listens to the tinny jingle of his score going up, questions keep stampeding through his head: why the hell couldn't Prompto's budget accommodate one unexpected expense? Why couldn’t he call his parents and ask for help? What would he have done if there was an actual emergency?

By dinner time, he's so twitchy that Ignis has mercy. When it's time to bring Prompto's bowl into the tent – hearty, chunky daggerquill soup – he hands it to Noct and says, "Do mind what you say."

Inside, Prompto's curled up in his sleeping bag, buried under a mound of blankets.

Maybe he's actually sleeping. He doesn't even stir until Noct says, "Hey," and sits down beside him.

"Is it morning yet?" says Prompto, plaintively, and the words come out muffled by fabric.

"Got a while left to go," says Noct. "Specs made daggerquill soup for dinner, though."

There's a huff of air from the blanket pile, and it shifts and rises. Prompto's face pokes out, smiling a crooked smile. "Man, you guys are gonna spoil me."

Noct offers the bowl – waits while a pale hand worms its way free of the cloth to take it, and the other fights its way into the open to accept the spoon.

"You want company while you eat?" says Noct.

Prompto pauses – gives him a careful sort of look. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

The smile twists a little, there at the corner; there's something self-deprecating to it that Noct definitely doesn't like. "Oh, I dunno. I only wrecked the first two days of your trip."

"What?" says Noct. "No."

"Kind of, yeah," says Prompto. "You haven't even had a chance to go fishing yet."

Noct rears back; the heat that washes through his chest is indignant, and his voice is strained when he says, "Who the hell wants to go fishing when his best friend's laid up with a fever?"

Prompto's quiet for a beat, eyes on the soup instead of Noct's face. "Not you, I guess?"

"Not me," Noct agrees, fiercely.

Prompto stirs the spoon in the soup bowl for longer than he really needs to. At last he gives a small nod.

The first couple of bites go in silence. Then Prompto lifts his eyes to peer up at Noct. "Hey, uh. So, tomorrow?"

"Yeah?" says Noct.

Prompto bites at his lip. "Can we, like. Skip the whole talking about it thing?"

Noct fixes him with a look that's flatly disbelieving. He says, "Seems like kind of a big deal, to just never bring it up again."

"Yeah, well," says Prompto, shoulders hunching in. "I don't mind, if you don't."

"Prom," says Noct, and then trails off into silence.

What can he say to that? Especially right now, when anything out of his mouth will pry for answers Prompto doesn't want to give.

Noct presses his lips together into a tight line. At last he says, "On one condition."

Prompto's eyes are on his face, almost wary. "What's the condition?"

"Next time you need help with money," says Noct, "you better ask me."

"Dude," says Prompto. "No way."

"Yes way," says Noct. He leans in, so that he can look Prompto right in the eyes. "You can't skip out on – on  _meals_  and stuff."

Prompto shifts – glances away. He picks at the edge of his soup bowl. "It's not a big deal," he says. "I've done it before."

The words push the breath from Noct's lungs. He says it so casually – so off-handed – like of  _course_  he's done it before, and hasn't everyone?

Noct swallows. He gets his thoughts in order. He says, "Maybe it's not a big deal to you. But it's a big deal to  _me_. So humor me, okay?"

When Prompto lifts his eyes again, they look a little raw around the edges, red and slightly damp. "Okay," he says, at last. "Sure. If it's a big deal."

"It's a big deal," Noct tells him, roughly. "And that's another thing. All that stuff about – about keeping you around, and things I can't stand? That's _bullshit_."

Noct wants to say more. There's a lot more to _say_. He could tell Prompto about how it's not so hard to get out of bed in the morning anymore, since they started hanging out together. About the way the whole world seems to get brighter, every time Prompto smiles. 

His hands are in fists, clenched on his knees while he fights with himself to put some of that – any of that – into words. When he glances up, frustrated with his own inability, he discovers that Prompto's watching his face, close and careful, like he's looking for something.

"So promise me," Noct manages at last. He pauses, and swallows. "Promise I can help, if you need it."

Whatever Prompto sees in his face, it's enough to kindle a smile. It's one of those slow, sweet smiles – the kind that make Noct's chest feel full of something warm and a little overwhelming.

"Man," says Prompto. "How's a guy supposed to say no to that?"

 

* * *

 

They pull up in front of Prompto's house just after sunset, five days later.

They're all a little worse for wear – ragged, and disheveled, and ready for a night in a real bed.

But Prompto can't stop grinning, and Noct has a whole cooler full of fish in the trunk, and Gladio and Ignis look more relaxed than Noct thinks he's ever seen them.

Noct's on autopilot, content and kind of sleepy. He takes in the details like they're a distant sort of dream: the mail overflowing from the mailbox, and the car-less driveway, and the windows, empty of lights.

Prompto's already hopped out of the car – is circling around to the trunk to get his stuff. But something in Noct's brain catches up with what his eyes are seeing, and he calls out, "Hey, Prom. You wanna just stay at my place till school's back in session? We could hit level twenty in Dungeons and Dream Warriors."

Prompto hesitates for just a beat too long. He stands there with his hand on the trunk latch, peering toward Noct in the darkening night.

Then his grin floods back full force. 

"Dude, you know it," says Prompto, and bounds back around to the passenger side to climb in.

A few seconds later, the car speeds off toward Noct's place, leaving the empty house behind them.


End file.
